


Assassin's New Groove

by GypsumLilac



Series: Caring is Overrated [1]
Category: Undertale
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-06 20:45:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8768656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GypsumLilac/pseuds/GypsumLilac
Summary: Being rewritten and reformatted. A "Versus" fic. Reader might possibly die... I can't promise their health or wellbeing. Thing just happen, y'know? Especially when you're the nemesis of the Great Papyrus. I'll try to keep them alive though. Papyrus would never kill them, at least. I can promise that there will be hugs, though :)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Credit goes to Toby Fox for making Undertale, and to nyublackneko for coming up with the idea of monster mafia. This is not their mafiatale. I'm... Not sure what this is...
> 
> I'm also not taking this too seriously, because if I took it too seriously I'd never finish and be too scared to post anything ;p

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have been captured by the Great Papyrus. Good luck.  
> Sorry for the pseudo-fluff. Not.  
> Seriously though, how can it NOT be fluffy when Papyrus is involved.  
> ... Without killing or otherwise harming him...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewrote the first chapter and haven't rewritten this one yet so if you just came in, there is serious tone whiplash right now.

"-MAN!! HUMAN!!" The strident noise forces you into consciousness, you groan and wave it away, but it keeps ringing. "WAKE UP, ENEMY HUMAN!!" 

"Whaddya want." You groan, rubbing your eyes, before starting up with a jolt and shouting "WHERE AM I!! LET ME GO!!" Blinking disconcertedly, you push yourself off the lumpy couch and stumble a bit as you stand up. A skeleton is chewing its bony fingers in distress... what was its name again... ah, Papyrus. 

The Papyrus shouts in your ear even though you are right next to him. "OH GOOD!! YOU ARE AWAKE!! I WAS WORRIED THAT YOU WERE GOING TO SLEEP THE DAY AWAY LIKE MY LAZYBONES BROTHER SANS!!" He seems distraught at this possibility, you cock your head at him and pat his shoulder awkwardly, not sure who this 'Sans' person is or why he's so lazy. 

"What exactly am I, uh, doing here?" The floor is very clean, much cleaner than your floor, except, "EEUGH!! WHY IS THERE A SOCK ON THE FLOOR!!" You yell in horrified disgust at the dirty sock staining the ground. Even you don't have scandalous socks lying around. 

"THAT IS MY BROTHER'S. HE. NEVER. PICKS. IT. UP!!!" The Papyrus stomps his foot emphatically, and considering that he has to live with it you reach out to pat his shoulder awkwardly again, as this 'Sans' fellow seems to be a real slob. Your hand jerks back as a sudden phantom pain flashes in your ribs accompanied by memory.

You stumble back, gripping your chest and whipping your head around in a frantic search for the briefcase. "Where is it! Where's the briefcase?" Turning to him again you grab him by the collar of his t-shirt. "What did you do with it!" 

"WE HAD AN AGREEMENT." He smiles sternly down at you, shaking off your hand. "I WON, SO I GET THE BRIEFCASE. YOU LOST, SO NOW YOU WILL HAVE TO RECEIVE GUIDANCE FROM ME AND BECOME A BETTER PERSON. . . OR AT LEAST A PERSON WHO DOES NOT DO VIOLENCES." He concedes after a moment's thought. 

"You have no idea what you're dealing with, monster." You growl intimidatingly. But it's not very effective. Papyrus pats your head, even as you try to duck away. 

"I HAVE PLACED PUZZLES ON THE GROUND FOR YOU, HUMAN. I AM SURE YOU WILL WANT TO SOLVE THEM BEFORE I FINISH MAKING FRIENDSHIP SPAGHETTI." He shoves you lightly and you crumple in despair before the assortment of mazes, crosswords, and other hand-drawn puzzles. "NYEH HEH HEH!! BEFORE THE DAY IS COMPLETE, WE WILL BE FRIENDS!! AND YOU SHALL NO LONGER WANT TO DO VIOLENCES OR EVEN STAY WITH THE BAD HUMANS." Papyrus clatters out to what you presume to be the kitchen, and starts clanging pots and pans. 

Offended, you growl under your breath "we are the good humans," before cautiously standing up to search the premises. You need to get the briefcase and escape.

Behind the television, underneath the desk, you even shove the couch out to search behind it, wincing at the scraping creaks. The briefcase is nowhere to be found. Then you spot the two rooms up a set of stairs. It must be up there somewhere.

Carefully watching the kitchen, you step cautiously up the stairs and have to bite back a sigh of relief as they don't creak beneath you. "HUMAN," you freeze at his inquiring call, "HOW ARE THE PUZZLES? ARE THEY STUMPING YOU? THEY HAVE STUMPED EVEN ME, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, SO DO NOT FEEL BAD IF YOU DO NOT GET THEM RIGHT ON THE FIRST TRY!"

"Umm, yeah! I'm doing... Great! Just fine, definitely don't need any help!" Quite proud that you came up with such a clever comeback, you reach the top of the stairs and cautiously turn the knob of the first room. Pushing it quietly open, you peek in, gasping in triumph as the door opens smoothly. The gasp quickly turns into a cough as a rancid smell burns through the air.

"THAT IS WONDERFUL, HUMAN! THOSE WERE THE HARDEST PUZZLES I HAD TO OFFER. FOR YOU TO COMPLETE THEM SO QUICKLY, YOU MUST LOVE PUZZLES AS MUCH AS I DO!!" Papyrus calls from the source of the smoke and smell. 

You don't grace him with an answer, shielding your mouth and nose with one arm as coughs convulse through your body. Thus prepared, you stumble into the room and start searching. 

"THE SPAGHETTI IS ALMOST READY!! YOU ARE SURE TO LOVE IT AS MUCH AS YOU LOVE PUZZLES, AND THEN WE WILL BE FRIENDS!" He seems confusingly certain of this when the house seems ready to go up in flames. 

"I *hoc* hate *hoc* spaghetti," you wheeze disdainfully and then have to restrain yourself from whooping as you see it. The briefcase is haphazardly stuffed underneath the race car bed in one corner. Scooping it up, you sneak back downstairs with a sinking heart when you can't find a window. Looks like you'll have to escape the hard way.

He is still rummaging in the kitchen, the billows of black smoke making it quite apparent that you do not want to be here when he is done. Step by agonizing step you approach the door. 

The briefcase lands with a soft crash on the couch as the door creaks open. You smile at the newcomer as innocently as possible, hoping your reflexes were too fast for them to see you throwing it. 

The newcomer, a shorter and rounder skeleton, stares at you with bright pinpricks inside black sockets and his teeth forming a disconcertingly wide grin. "heya, bro?" He calls out to Papyrus, hands stuffed into the pockets of his voluminous blue hoodie.

"YES, SANS?" Papyrus sticks his sooty skull out of the smoke to look at the two of you. When his eyes fall on the completely untouched puzzles, his sockets narrow disappointedly at you. Your feet shuffle uncomfortably, but you stare back challengingly. It isn't like he was planning on letting you go if you completed them, either way you're in hot water. Now if he saw the briefcase, you'd really be in trouble.

"who's this?" Sans forestalls Papyrus's imminent lecture. And addresses the non-elephantine captive in the room. Who does not deserve to be lectured. At all. Or captured, for that matter.

"THAT... IS..." Papyrus looks cornered, he doesn't want Sans to know how you got here. .

Helpfully you supply, "I'm his friend, I just came over to borrow something."

Papyrus nods quickly and widens his sockets innocently. It takes effort to not roll your own eyes, but you manage. "YES, THEY ARE HERE FOR A VISIT! JUST A FRIEND, OVER TO BORROW SOMETHING!! THEY ARE NOT A CAPTIVE OR ANYTHING!! NYEH HEH. . . HEH?" You groan quietly.

Sans's skull nods slowly, the bright pinpricks in his deep sockets locking onto you. It's getting slightly hot. Scratching your arm nervously, you try to match his grin. "well, then. i'd LOVE to learn more about them." His sockets flash at the word 'love'. Breaking eye contact, you stare at that one particular piece of lint on the couch. He grunts, or laughs, you aren't sure which. "well, aren't you going to stay for dinner, ...?" The pause is where someone raised in polite society would offer their name. You are not polite society however, not even acknowledging the unspoken question. 

"I, uh, really have to go. Meetings, and such... You know, business stuff. Actually," you turn to grab the briefcase from off the couch, "I just needed this and now I'll be on my way." Banking on Papyrus's desire to keep the rather heated first meeting under wraps, you sidle to the door with the briefcase in your hands. Papyrus just stares at you with glistening sockets, wanting to say something but unable to. The sadistic part of you is pleased by this.

Before you can get out though, a blue fluffy arm bars your escape. Sans is leaning casually against the doorframe, and his grin feels mocking somehow. "don't be like that, pal. at least stay for dinner. Papyrus's cooking is the best, isn't that right, bro?" 

"Y-YES!! YOU ARE IN FOR A TREAT, HUMAN!! BUSINESS CAN WAIT!! BRIEFCASES CAN WAIT!! FIRST, TASTE THE MAGNIFICENT FRIENDSHIP SPAGHETTI CREATED BY NONE OTHER THAN I, MYSELF!! NYEH HE HE HE HE!!" Papyrus's sockets dip craftily. Your hand tightens on the handle of the briefcase, but finally your shoulders sag in defeat. You have no wish to fight Papyrus(read: be beaten up by Papyrus) again, and it's just your luck that he'd have a brother.

"Alright, I, uh, guess it wouldn't hurt to just stay for s-supper." You follow Papyrus into the smoke, flanked by Sans. 

Once you and Sans are seated at the surprisingly clean table, Papyrus pulls a bubbling pot from the stove, and places it with a thunk in the center. You grimace, disgusted, at the black smoking stuff inside the pot. Sans just grins at you. Do skeletons ever stop smiling? You have a feeling that they probably don't.

"HERE YOU ARE, FRIEND HUMAN WHO IS DEFINITELY NOT AN ENEMY!! HAVE SOME SPAGHETTI!!" A plate slaps down in front of you, the gloppy noodley goo on it does not deserve to be called spaghetti. 

You poke it with a fork gingerly. "Uh, I think I'd rather not. This stuff looks and smells horrible. Who knows how terrible it tastes." The air grows cold, forming icicles that drip ominously. "What?" You look around innocently at the skeletons. And then realize you should probably not insult your captor's spaghetti. 

Then Papyrus breaks the tension with a cheery voice, eyes shining. "OH, HUMAN!! YOUR HONESTY, YOUR BRAVERY IN DELIVERING SUCH A HARSH CRITIQUE, YOU MUST REALLY WANT TO BE MY FRIEND!! BUT I ASSURE YOU THAT MY SPAGHETTI IS THE BEST SPAGHETTI YOU WILL EVER TASTE." He plops down in a seat and smiles aggravatingly. 

You poke it with your fork again, sloshing the stuff around on the plate. Sans speaks up, rumbling with thinly veiled menace. "hey, pal. you ever hear about the guy who insulted the skeleton's spaghetti?" When you shrug uncertainly, his eyes widen in delight. "well, that'd be because he pasta way. heh heh heh." Goosebumps prickle your scalp, and a shiver runs down your spine as you scootch the chair further away from his icy smile. 

"SAAAANS!!" Papyrus stomps his foot under the table. "NO PUNNING!! AND NO DEATH THREATS!! AND NO PUNNING DEATH THREATS!!! AND YOU-" he swivels to level you with narrowed sockets. "EAT THE FRIENDSHIP SPAGHETTI." 

Nodding obediently, you lift the fork to your mouth slowly. Then lower it again as you notice an injustice. "Uh, Papyrus," you glance nervously at Sans but he just continues to grin tightly at you, "shouldn't you be eating too?" Papyrus's plate is empty. He looks down at it, and then back at you with confusion. Sharp annoyance spikes through your head. 

"BUT THAT WOULD NOT BE POLITE OF ME, AS THE CHEF, TO EAT THE FOOD I MADE FOR MY GUEST AND BROTHER." His eyes crinkle as he continues delightedly, "IT WAS VERY KIND OF YOU TO BE CONCERNED FOR MY WELLBEING, HOWEVER. SEE, YOU ARE GETTING BETTER ALREADY!" Noticing his mistake, he hurries to cover up. "NOT THAT YOU WERE NOT ALREADY GOOD!! A GOOD UPSTANDING CITIZEN WHO HAS NEVER SHOT SOMEONE IN THEIR LIFE!!" You wince. At this rate, it's going to take a miracle to escape.

Sans acts completely oblivious to his brother's slip-ups, clarifying the spaghetti issue. "yeah, my bro never eats his cooking. leaves all the joy to us." His fork, piled high with the disgusting glop, enters his mouth, and your gorge rises as you watch him chew it without so much as a grimace.

If the skeleton slob can eat it, so can you. "Well, I think he should share the joy with us. After all, if is so great, shouldn't the chef find it irresistible as well?" Mentally gritting yourself, you open your mouth, move the fork into it, and drop the black mess onto your tongue. On reflection, you should probably not rise to challenges set by someone with no standards. The partially-slimy partially-brittle noodles, the burnt smoothed tomatoes making a gooey consistency, the acrid sweetness, it hits your tongue and overloads your nose all at once. Gagging, you force yourself to swallow and it leaves a bitter powdery aftertaste behind it. You glare at Papyrus resolutely, standing up from your seat. The spoon is still in the pot, so you scoop up a giant glob of the stuff and plop it onto his plate. "We are eating it. So you eat it too." He squirms under your hard gaze. 

"YOU DIDN'T DO THE PUZZLES." Straightening, he glares back. "AND I WORKED SO HARD TO MAKE THEM, TOO." 

You wave the spoon frustratedly, splattering the wall with black goop. "I hate puzzles! Those puzzles are probably so easy, anyway! Just eat your gross food already!" If you are going to be killed anyway, it doesn't matter what you say.

His eyes widen, smile drooping. "YOU... HATE PUZZLES? AND... AND YOU THINK MY FOOD IS... GROSS?" 

"hey, pal. chill. say you're sorry to Papyrus." Sans admonishes, an edge of steel beneath the softly spoken words. 

But steel can only sharpen steel, as his words only harden your resolve. Eyeing Sans, you growl out to Papyrus, "Eat it." 

Papyrus's arms cross childishly as he bargains, "ONLY IF YOU COMPLETE MY PUZZLES." The bright pinpoints in the sockets across from you vanish into a damning void. The grin on Sans's face stretches wider as if daring you to refuse. Your chair is comfortable and safe, so you slouch down into it. 

"Fine. I'll complete the stup- uh, the puzzles." You concede out of fairness and not at all because there are monsters surrounding you who could kill you or anything like that. Sans nods slowly, in approval or...

"SANS, YOU LAZY BONES!! YOU CAN'T FALL ASLEEP AT THE DINNER TABLE!" Papyrus shakes his brother awake, and Sans's head rolls up again, pupil-lights shining. 

"huh? oh, sorry bro. work really drained my marrow today. welp, once this is all settled, i'll just lay on the couch." His eyes crinkle appeasingly at Papyrus's frown. 

"VERY WELL. I SHALL TASTE MY OWN CREATION, DESCENDING TO THE LEVEL OF BASER CHEFS." He picks up his fork and scoops some of the glop onto it. You sit back in your chair, smirking at your small triumph. The fork is raised to his opened jaws. Then it's all in, and his face convulses as he chews. "URGH, I MEAN, YUM! I DON'T, GACK, KNOW WHAT YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT, HUMAN. THIS IS, AGH, THE BEST, BLERGH, SPAGHETTI I'VE EVER, GLURGH, TASTED!!" 

"bro, it's the only spaghetti you've ever tasted." Sans pats Papyrus's back comfortingly as he forces down the black glop. 

"Ha!" You crow in triumph, leaping to your feet with a clatter. "Does a good chef feed his people inedible glop?! NO!" Consequences be damned. You just made the world a little fairer.

"WHY, HUMAN, WHATEVER ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!" Recovering quickly from the assault on his non-existent tastebuds, he denounces your accusation. "THE SPAGHETTI IS WONDERFUL!! PERFECT BLENDS OF TANGYNESS AND SOFTNESS, THE NOODLES ALTERNATING BETWEEN FLOPPY AND BRITTLE, IT IS A TESTAMENT TO THE PASSION OF THE CHEF! I UNDERSTAND IF YOU DO NOT HAVE IT IN YOU TO APPRECIATE SUCH FINERY, BUT I WILL FINISH MINE." 

A fox couldn't have replicated Papyrus's wicked smirk as you bare your teeth and lift up another forkful of doom. The flavour hasn't improved since your first mouthful. Gagging as it slides down your throat, you glare at him. "I can handle this just fine." Sans pushes himself away from the table, leaving the kitchen silently. You choke the spaghetti on your plate down. It doesn't get any better with exposure.

After you've forced down the last bit and Papyrus's plate has been wiped clean, you push the finally empty plate away from you with a nauseous groan. Papyrus gathers the plates and puts them in the trash can without a word. He also picks up the chair you knocked over. "You have to admit defeat, now, at least." You peek into the pot and have to swallow back bile. He picks that up too and dumps the contents after the plates. 

"NYEH. OUR TECHNIQUE REQUIRES SOME IMPROVING, I MUST ADMIT." He smiles appraisingly at you, causing an irrepressible shudder to run down your spine. You sidle to the kitchen door. "I WILL HAVE TO TAKE YOU TO A COOKING LESSON, WE COULD LEARN MUCH FROM EACH OTHER. AFTER ALL, EVEN ONE AS GREAT AS I STILL HAS THINGS TO LEARN. AND I THINK UNDYNE WOULD LIKE YOU." He steps out of the kitchen, laying a guiding arm on your shoulder that you hastily shake off as you follow him. 

The intimidating pile of puzzles is still laying on the floor mockingly as you and Papyrus enter the living room. There isn't any way out of this. Sans is nowhere to be seen, probably up in his room asleep, so Papyrus has nothing to stop him from locking you up somewhere less escapable. You just need to wait it out. The puzzles can't be that hard. 

The couch is a significantly better place to sit than the floor. Papyrus has already sat down, patting the seat next to himself and holding a pencil in the other hand. But when you turn to sit down, a force stops you and thrusts you forward. Breaking your fall with your hands, you swivel your head to glare at Papyrus, but the dark pools of his brother stare unblinkingly back. "BROTHER!! IT IS VERY RUDE TO APPEAR OUT OF THIN AIR RIGHT WHEN OUR GUEST IS TRYING TO SIT DOWN!!!" Papyrus stomps his foot in rage. Standing up, you brush yourself down, shooting daggers at the skeleton in your seat. Well, the seat you were about to sit down in. His right eye winks lazily, the left firmly fixed on you. 

"oh, sorry bro. that was _vile_ of me. won't happen again." He looks away finally. A sigh of relief relaxes a tension in your chest that you hadn't noticed. It returns, however, as Papyrus is making a conceited effort to not blow up over the... wait, was that a pun? Probably not, after all there is nothing around that could possibly pun with vile. 

Except bile, you realize ruefully, as an excessive amount of it forces the spaghetti up your throat and back out of your mouth, spewing all over the puzzles on the floor. "OH NO, WHAT ARE YOU DOING, HUMAN?!?" Papyrus yells in your ear, your stomach clenches your body painfully as more spills out. "THE FOOD IS SUPPOSED TO REMAIN INSIDE YOUR BODY!!" He sounds genuinely concerned, which you find odd. 

In the brief pauses your stomach gives you between hocking up the spaghetti, you give Papyrus a baleful stare. "Humans- vomit up the things that- that are bad for them-" a fresh wave of nausea spasms through your body and you fall to your knees, strands of black hair and globs of black noodley glop swimming in your vision. 

"SAAAANS." From the tone of Papyrus's voice, his brother must have made a pun. A hand rests on your back, Papyrus's skull floats in your periphery vision. "Did my spaghetti do this?" 

You nod, grunting painfully "water- need water." The hand disappears, as does his face. Looking up from the mess of hair and vomit, you see him turning into the kitchen. A brash determination grasps the chance before you. Wiping your mouth on your sleeve, you stand up weakly. Black spots flicker in your vision and your whole body flashes hot and cold, but you push past it, focusing on the black rectangular thingy still on the couch. The brother does nothing to stop you as you wrap both arms securely around it and walk as quickly as you can without fainting to the door. 

The door slams open and you trip hazily down the steps. A detached piece of you is aware of the eyes on you, the cut-off yell behind you, and the searing heat beating down and reflecting off the pavement as you hurry away from the house of your captor. Finally turning into a shaded alley when you get to a recognizable part of the city, you collapse beside a dumpster and hug the briefcase to your chest. You never want to eat spaghetti again. But, an elated giggle bubbles from your chest, it allowed you to escape. The laugh turns to a grimace as the taste of bile and regurgitated spaghetti returns in force. You need a drink, and soon. Thankfully the rondevue point with your boss is in a bar not too far from here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya :)  
> Yes, I wrote this just do I could make that pun-threat. I hope you find it as funny as I do. And if you don't, then THERE IS THE DOOR.  
> ;p jk, please don't leave.  
> The next chapter shouldn't take so long because I already have the dialogue scripted. This one took way long cause I needed to edit the first chapter and yeah procrastination is a thing... :( sorry  
> (when I rewrite it, I'll keep the pun).

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it :) if you have any suggestions or critiques, I'd love to hear them :) thank you! 
> 
> :p :)  
> I promise I won't get upset if you criticize me ;p :) I criticize people often enough that I should be able to take it ;p.  
> "Those who kill should be prepared to die!" -Lelouch vi Britannia
> 
> Thanks for reading!!!


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